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Monday, 19 January 2015 00:02 - - {{hitsCtrl.values.hits}}
impregnable as the Sigiriya fortress in its glory days – the edifice collapsed with astonishing rapidity, peacefully, by the most effective instrument known to free men, the vote.
If an explanation for the sudden snap election on 8 January is to be given, that peculiar Sri Lankan phenomenon, horoscopes, is as good a reason as any. President Rajapaksa, possessed with near total power, enjoying a lifestyle unaccustomed and undreamt of until his election in 2005, carving out dazzling careers conferring every creature comfort for his family members, but yet seemingly adored by the humble citizens, had it as good as anyone who had taken to a career in Sri Lankan politics.
By the end of 2014 President Rajapaksa had two more years of his second term remaining. It was not going to end there. The Supreme Court had approved an amendment to the Constitution moved by the Rajapaksa Government doing away with the two term restriction, even holding that a mere two-thirds majority in Parliament, which he already commanded, was sufficient for the purpose of amending the Constitution. There was no need to consult the people by way of a referendum, a recourse available in our Constitution.
Holding thus a hand packed in his favour, Rajapaksa then suddenly decided to play a risky card; forego the remaining two years of his term and seek an unprecedented third term. And all that, as the story goes, because his cabal of astrologers forecasted a beneficial planetary configuration for the President. Given the tragic way things were unfolding, the country may have been saved, willy-nilly by those astrologers!
Menacing family Government
There was something deeply menacing and even primal about the Mahinda Rajapaksa “family” Government of 2010-2014. The war was over in May 2009. This was then the time to heal the wounds and build up the country. But instead gradually “a strange world of bare and brutal facts, of superstition, a world of perpetual twilight was emerging”.
One of the first moves of the re-elected President Rajapaksa was to arrest Sarath Fonseka, his main rival at the just-concluded elections, with disgusting brutality. The former Army Commander was charged in Court, all privileges earned during his long service as a soldier withdrawn and humiliated publicly. It is unthinkable in the democratic world for the principal rival at an election to be subjected to such an ordeal within a few days of his electoral defeat.
Two years later, it was the turn of the then Chief Justice Shirani Bandaranayake. She was appointed Chief Justice by Mahinda Rajapaksa. Initially all was well between them and apparently all arrangements mutually-satisfactory. But somewhere along the way there was a fall out. Rajapaksa demanded punishment for the errant judge.
As the Parliament was conducting the consequent impeachment hearings against her, a mob camped outside the Judge’s residence, while 
another demonstrated in front of the courts. The proceedings in Parliament concluded with a huge fireworks display, apparently funded with our money!
Hardened habits die hard
Even in defeat, hardened habits and methods die hard. On 9 January, when defeated President Rajapaksa decided to return to his hometown Hambantota in an Air Force helicopter, a mob was waiting, perhaps divinely informed of the time and place of his landing, this time bemoaning his loss of office!
Gandhi famously wrote, “Strength of numbers is the delight of the timid…” There is no question that a few hundreds here or there cannot provide answers to political issues. But in the summoning of these ready demonstrators for various purposes there is a clear clue to a dark mentality.
People are there to be used. Never mind that they are transported in sweltering buses, given a cheap pack of rice and perhaps some cash while you the leader arrive there in a convoy of the most modern and sleek vehicles imaginable, both transports financed with the money of the people. And never mind that after all the slogan shouting in the hot sun the mob goes back to their poorly homes; dog-tired, perhaps dulling their aches and pains with the liquors provided by the organisers, while you the leader will retire to a most luxurious and heavily-guarded mansion to gaze at a menagerie of elephants, peacocks and sharks or play with adult toys like Lamborghinis and helicopters.
Strange new political culture
Between 2010 and 2014 a strange new political culture emerged, slowly but steadily spreading it roots in every direction. On the face of it, the systems of government, institutions and their methods continued to function as meant. But nothing was what they seemed.
All arms of the State and even political institutions such as the SLFP were diminished into blind and obedient instruments to be used by the family of the President. Law and order was defined on the basis of partisanship, those close to the Rajapaksa family enjoying total impunity. A reviled politician who had received injuries in the course of a shooting incident when flown to a foreign country for treatment was given a security cover which equalled that of a Head of State!
People were simply broken, any sense of self-worth denied to them. Otherwise mature Parliamentarians vied with each other to sing absurd praises of their leader, educated and trained public servants became humble appendages of his political agenda, some Judges took great pride in joining his entourage undermining the very basis of their office, so called captains of industry grovelled in front of his family members, the media that very essential element of critical judgment in a democracy became a chorus of praise and all of them unitedly bowed their heads low to him for providing a totem for worship.
Fragility of democracy
These four years demonstrated the fragility of democracy and related concepts in countries like ours. Elections and other democratic features 
notwithstanding, these are foreign and recent ideas planted in a barely fertile soil. Unless nurtured lovingly and guarded diligently, they are vulnerable to predatory attacks. It is very possible for an adventurer to obtain an electoral endorsement and then proceed to use the very methods of democracy to render it meaningless. Like those referred to by Leonard Woolf in the context of the jungle, we may also imagine that we know our leaders, without understanding or feeling for what they really are.
Democracy in Sri Lanka could be likened to that small village in Woolf’s immortal book, a few tiny huts in the middle of an enormous jungle. The village is threatened by the ever-pressing jungle without. But the more mortal threat is from within, from the tensions, rivalries, conflicts and most dangerously from the ambitions of its inhabitants.
On 8 January the voters of this country decided that they would not allow the democratic processes to fall apart. On that day they lit a bright candle for democracy and good governance. It is now for the elected to ensure that the people are never again menaced by the mores of the jungle.
(The writer is an Attorney-at-Law and a freelance writer.)
